It Will Always Just Be Me
by the.blue.dinosaur
Summary: "We were never in a relationship, Quinn and I. But we were happy. Isn't that enough?" / A Faberry story, told in moments.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is a new story I'm working on. I hope you enjoy it!**

**A note on the format: The beginning of each chapter takes place ten years after high school – Rachel's, in essence, telling her story to Kurt. The second part of each chapter is "back then". Just in case anyone gets confused.**

**The title is from the song **_**Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off**_**, by Panic at the Disco.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**:)**

_/_

"It only happened once."

Rachel is sitting across from him, and her hands are wrung together.

"I mean – just the one time, I swear." It feels like a confession, atonement for her sins – _not sins_, she tells herself, _that wasn't a sin, it's not bad._

Kurt looks at her with ill-disguised confusion, raising his eyebrow. "Why are you telling me this?"

And – well, that's the question that makes her wince. "Because I slept with Quinn once in high school but that doesn't make me the bad guy."

He blinks at her, clearly shocked, and she can only nod.

_Just once_.

Once was enough, though, enough to tell her everything she needed to know –

/

Rachel is going home.

She has to walk, because her car is broken down, and it looks like rain outside – and she shakes her head, grumbling.

She's just had a bad day, and wants nothing but to curl up with hot chocolate and _The Sound of Music_.

The sound of sobbing stops her – and she recognizes this sound from too many afternoons in her own car.

She walks toward the sound, and she's almost surprised at what she sees.

It's Quinn, and Rachel bites her lip before knocking, soft, and climbing in – because she can, because for once she doesn't think Quinn will kick her out, because there are things that she can't let herself admit that she might want. She lays a hand on Quinn's arm, almost tender, and swallows back any words she might have wanted to say, because she's pretty sure Quinn just needs someone to be there for her.

Finally, she looks up –and Rachel hates herself for thinking this, but Quinn is absolutely beautiful, even like this (though shouldn't that be _especially_ like this?), her face tearstained, make-up a bit messy.

Rachel smiles. She really is beautiful. She wipes a smear from beneath one of Quinn's eyes. "Hey," and it feels too loud in the car, without Quinn's racking sobs filling the silence.

Outside, it starts to rain, and Rachel thinks that never in her life has there been more of a movie-esque moment.

All that she needs is a kiss from the heartbroken heroine.

But those are dangerous thoughts – and she pushes them to the side.

Quinn blinks, and Rachel watches as she tries to piece herself back together. "Why are you here?" she finally asks, and it's obviously intended to come out sharp – but it's soft, and almost sad, and Quinn's mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she settles for just looking at Rachel.

Rachel shrugs. "Because I was walking and you were crying. And – I heard about the Cheerios, and I didn't get a chance to tell you but –I'm sorry." She's not, really – Quinn's better than them, worth more than them.

Quinn nods, letting out a rush of air. "I'll drive you home," she says, and she sounds wrecked, so Rachel nods, lets her drive.

After a long while, Quinn seems to freeze up, and sits straighter. "It's not a big deal, you know. The Cheerios."

Rachel smiles. "Obviously it is," and this comes out gentle.

Quinn shakes her head, and another long moment passes before she speaks. "Why are you _here_, though? You could have been – could have told me – you don't have to be nice to me."

Rachel grins, and reaches over, squeezes Quinn's arm again, letting her know she's there. "I know I don't need to. I'm not stupid. But you need a friend and I can be here for you."

"But we're not friends," and it comes out sharp. Quinn's eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I just – we're not."

"And outside of here, we don't need to be," Rachel says, even as she feels her heart break, a little bit. "We don't need to be anything more than we are, but right now you're hurting and I just want to help."

Quinn's face seems to twist, and then she nods. She takes in a shuddering breath, and squeezes her eyes shut. "It wasn't about the Cheerios. I don't give a shit about that."

"Then why were you crying?" and Rachel's whispering without meaning to, leaning in close to Quinn.

She lets out a soft noise, pulls to the side of the road – they're in a somewhat abandoned part of town, and Rachel can barely see where they are – and shakes her head, wiping at her tears.

Rachel catches her wrist – and this is too much, too close, she knows it is, but it's only dangerous on her end – and she won't let this get out of hand. She pulls Quinn's hand away, just a bit, and properly looks at her. "You're not alone," and she feels like she's having an out-of-body experience, and Quinn's just _staring_ at her.

Quinn leans forward and Rachel's grip tightens, just a bit –and then they're kissing, soft, barely more than a press of lips.

Rachel lets out a noise and her grip tightens further, until she realizes what she's doing – what _they're_ doing – and pulls away, shaking her head, leaning back against the door.

Quinn follows, and her hands are on Rachel's waist and her thumbs dig in, a bit, and she's too close to Rachel. "Please," she whispers, and it comes out cracked, broken. "_Please_," and her thumbs dig in harder, grip tighter, holding on to Rachel.

And this is all that Rachel's wanted for too long, and she nods, leans up to wrap her arms around Quinn's neck, pull her close.

Everything is a bit of a haze after that, punctuated by sharp moments full of clarity – Quinn's mouth on her neck, sucking a dark bruise just below her collarbone, her fingers sliding under Rachel's shirt, touching soft skin, playing a melody with her fingertips.

The rain punctuates their movements, and Rachel can hear it pounding against the window with the time of her heart, her beating heart, and when Quinn slides Rachel's shirt off her shoulders everything snaps into focus because this is it, now, this is the point of no return.

Quinn leans forward, whispers, soft, into Rachel's ear – _is this okay?_

And Rachel can only nod, because this is more than okay, more than wonderful, and she closes her eyes before opening them wider, staring at Quinn, drinking this moment in because she thinks she might not get another one.

And she's pushing Quinn's shirt off of her shoulders and everything's moving too fast – they should go on a date first, something other than _this_, but she's wanted this too long to consider stopping.

Quinn lets out a soft sigh when Rachel manages to push the seat back, and crawls on top of her, taking charge now, sucking her own dark bruise, at the top of her shoulder, fingers skimming down Quinn's sides. Her hands slide down further, resting at the top of Quinn's skirt, and she looks up.

Quinn shakes her head, flipping them again, pressing Rachel down, and she pulls Rachel's skirt down, sliding down her body to rest between her legs.

"Do you want this?" she asks, soft, and Rachel nods.

Quinn's fingers are teasing her, then, and Rachel's eyes shut, breathing quickening even at this. She feels fingertips circling _there_, and she's done this to herself but she's never felt anything like this – and then Quinn's sliding the tip of a finger inside her, just the tip, and Rachel can't help the soft sigh that escapes her.

She shouldn't be this responsive, shouldn't be letting go this much – but she can't help it, not when Quinn fucking Fabray is _inside_ her, shit.

"You like this," Quinn whispers, and her voice is cracked, broken, and Rachel can only nod, eyes shut tight – because that makes it feel less real, more like a fantasy, and she doesn't feel so guilty about having it.

"Please," she whispers, and Quinn slides her finger all the way in – and hits something _wonderful_, and Rachel lets out a shout, nodding, hand flying to grip at Quinn's other wrist, hold tight. "_Please_."

Quinn's own breathing quickens, and she fucks Rachel on her fingers, nodding, and bites at Rachel's neck. "Fucking… wanted this so long –" she gets out, and it's every cliché Rachel's ever heard of but it makes her go warm –

And she feels the telltale feeling, and then she's coming, harder than she ever has, letting out soft gasps with each second.

Quinn fucks her through it, until Rachel pushes her away, needing just a moment to calm down. When she opens her eyes, Quinn looks desperate, on edge, and she's fucking herself – and Rachel takes over, pushing her aside, kissing her _hard_, fucking her quickly.

When Quinn comes, it's quiet, and her eyes press shut, mouth falling open in a gasp.

Rachel has to smile at her, and pushes her hair out of her eyes, kissing her on the forehead – and she shouldn't be doing this but she can blame it on the endorphins, if worst comes to worst.

She hopes but she doesn't expect, and she waits for her answer with each second.

Quinn opens her eyes, and Rachel watches as the light fades, and she shakes her head. "This – I'm sorry."

Rachel shakes her head as well. "I'm not."

"We can't – this can't happen again," and Rachel was expecting it but it feels like a slap in the face.

She nods. "Of course," and keeps her tone neutral – she's an _actress_, after all. She fixes her clothes, turns to get out of the car, and Quinn stops her with a hand on the arm. She barely turns. "I'll walk home." The rain's all but stopped, now, and her dads will be worrying if she doesn't get home soon. It's only a few blocks.

This was all that she'd wanted since she was a freshman, three years ago, three _long_ years ago, and saw Quinn at the top of the pyramid – and now she's had it, what others might kill for.

She thought it would be enough – but it's not going to happen again and she feels young, stupid, for thinking something else might have happened.

She feels almost cheap, but she holds on to what Quinn looked like just before they kissed – desperate, _wanting_, and not just in the heat of the moment, as though – as though she'd wanted this for as long as Rachel has.

"Wait."

Rachel turns just slightly. "What?"

Quinn kisses her on the shoulder, soft. "I'm sorry," and it feels honest.

"Don't say that." Rachel smiles. "We don't have to be – be _anything_ when we get out of the car. I said that and I meant it."

Quinn nods, and Rachel feels a bit of her heart shatter at the lack of caring in her tone, in her movements. "And you won't –"

"I won't tell anyone." Rachel smiles, a bit, though she wants to cry.

Quinn nods. "Just so you know – I'm not gay," and she sounds like she's trying to convince someone other than herself. "I just – wanted you."

Rachel hears the past tense and feels another layer of ice on her heart, but she nods, too-quick. "I get it," and she does, because if she were the ex-captain of the Cheerios she wouldn't want to be outed either. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you," and it feels like for so much more, and Rachel doesn't have the words to respond, so she settles for nodding.

Rachel breathes. "And you won't –"

"Are you kidding me?" Quinn looks at her, wide-eyed. "I'm a lot of things, Rachel, but I'm not that kind of person."

"I know." Rachel swallows. "I know you're not," and Quinn's staring at her and Rachel just _wants_, more than she ever has before.

But she can't have her, not now, not again, and that has to be okay.

"We really can be friends," Quinn says, and she's looking down at her hands in her lap. "I mean – I don't – I don't want this to be – nothing."

Rachel nods. "Anything you want," and it comes out too-soft.

She pauses, and after a long moment with too many things unsaid, leaves.

Quinn lets her.


	2. Chapter 2

/

"I really wanted her. I don't know that she felt the same – but I did. I always did, from the beginning."

She wrings her hands together, and shakes her head a bit, remembering.

(Because of course it wasn't _just once_; things like that don't happen _once_, no matter what anyone says.

And even when sex didn't happen, when it was nothing but the two of them and _emotions_, everything felt so charged that it was like they were stripped bare.)

Across from her, Kurt doesn't say a word, and she's so grateful to him.

She needs to tell her story, and he seems to get that, more intuitively than anyone else she knows.

She swallows. "I just – sometimes, it felt like I had her, you know? Like she was mine to have. And that – the _thing_ happened in our junior year but even after that there were some times that I thought – she might still remember it, still think about it."

She closes her eyes.

It still hurts, even now, years later – still feels like being punched in the face because she was always the one a step ahead.

/

It's Quinn's idea, to do _I Feel Pretty/Unpretty_. She sets up the mash-up, gets the parts together, and they only practice a few times before they're performing it in front of the rest of the Glee club.

Rachel's never felt anything like this, the thrill of performing with someone – someone like Quinn.

Quinn is special and beautiful and everything that Rachel hopes to be, and she can still see Lucy in her, in the way that Rachel gets a smile, in the hand on her arm. That's kind, and sweet, and all that Rachel's ever wanted.

Quinn isn't like that, but Lucy is, and Rachel would happily take that if she could get it, call it her own.

She knows what she wants – to be _Quinn's_, to belong to Quinn, and it's when she looks over, singing _keep on trippin'_ that she realizes it.

She's head over heels for Quinn Fabray but she won't let herself confess it.

After, Quinn smiles at her and it looks softer, somehow. She grabs Rachel's wrist. "Do you want to go get some dinner?"

It isn't a date – can't be. Because Quinn is in a relationship and Rachel is the only one that wants it to be more than what it is – and so she nods, follows, lets Quinn have a grip on her wrist.

They get in the car and Quinn's quiet for a bit, shaking, before she pulls to the side of the road, looking down.

Rachel raises an eyebrow, and the movement tugs at the bandage on her nose, reminding her of why they're here – the only reason Quinn's speaking to her. It calms her, almost.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says, and Rachel blinks.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for the shitty way that I've treated you ever since we –" Quinn looks up, biting her lip. "You know."

Rachel nods. "I remember," and it comes out as less of a joke than she would have liked.

Quinn blinks, and nods. "Okay." She breathes, soft. "I just – this isn't something I'm used to, okay?"

_This_. Rachel's heart starts to race, a bit, at that. "What do you mean?"

"Wanting you," Quinn says, and Rachel barely has time to register it before Quinn's kissing her, lips soft against her own.

It's perfect – but they can't do this.

Rachel pushes at her. "No," and it comes out forcefully, for once, though it's everything she wants – this can't happen.

Quinn pulls away as though she's been burned.

Rachel shakes her head. "We can't."

Quinn sits back against her seat. "Why?" and it's cracked, broken. She looks close to tears.

"Finn," and the name makes her heart hurt – because they're passing him back and forth, she and Quinn, while _this_ is going on – was going on, whatever – and she can't do that. "We can't – do anything because you're with Finn and –"

"It doesn't mean anything," Quinn says, and her smile is wide, forced, leaning forward toward Rachel again.

Rachel shakes her head, and blinks back tears. "It does to me, though," and she swallows, thick. "It means something to me."

"That's not –" and Quinn sounds worried, now, licking her lips.

Rachel shakes her head. "Just – drop me at home?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No, I need to –"

"_Please_," Rachel says, because she's tired of being yanked back and forth like this. She wants, as she always does with Quinn, to go home and curl up and cry, and she needs Quinn to take her _home_, now.

After a long moment of staring at her, Quinn nods, and turns the car back on, hands shaking slightly.

It starts to rain as they're leaving, and Rachel snorts a bit.

Quinn turns to look at her. "What?" and it sounds as though she's trying to be polite, to put – everything past them.

Rachel smiles, and her eyes slide shut. "It's raining," and the steady beat lulls her, so long as she doesn't let herself remember –

_Hands, touching her. In her._

_Quinn's voice in her ear – "Rachel, so beautiful, come on, baby."_

_And the final euphoria, gasps almost covered by the sound of the rain._

– anything.

Quinn frowns. "Yeah?"

"It was raining, when we –" and Rachel cuts herself off here, coughing.

Quinn's eyes widen slightly, and she nods. She cracks a smile. "I'd almost forgotten."

It's dismissive, and Rachel feels her heart constrict a little bit, at that. She smiles, though, puts her brave face on. "I guess I've just got a better memory than you."

Quinn looks at her, face creased in worry, now. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm just – thinking about the operation." Rachel cracks a smile.

After a long moment, Quinn nods. "Okay. But – just so you know –" and she cuts herself off, looking down.

Rachel frowns. "What?"

"Nothing, never mind." Quinn smiles. "You live just up here, yeah?"

Rachel nods, pointing at her house.

Quinn pulls into the driveway and for a long moment they just look at each other. It's been months since _it_ happened, but still Rachel can remember everything, and every detail comes rushing back to her, in this moment.

She should leave, she knows she should – but she can't, not when Quinn is looking at her like that, as though she really cares, wants Rachel in the same way she did that day.

"I should go," Rachel says, and she makes no move, still looking at Quinn.

"Yeah," and this comes out soft, and Quinn is staring at Rachel's lips and it takes a forced memory of _this doesn't mean anything_ for Rachel to grab the door handle, getting out of the car.

She goes inside and she can't get the memory of Quinn, leaning toward her, kissing her for that brief moment, out of her mind.

It doesn't mean anything – it can't.

/

At school the next day, Quinn doesn't say anything to her and Rachel tells herself that it's better, that way.

She almost believes it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next bit. :) If you guys could let me know what you think, it'd mean the world to me!**

/

She sits without looking at him, now.

"It might have happened more than once. I don't know – I can't remember the times – the amount of times."

It's a lie. She knows exactly how many times she and Quinn _hooked up_, can remember the exact conversations they had, the moment that it turned into something more than hooking up but less than a relationship.

Kurt doesn't need to know that, though.

She closes her eyes.

"I just – I don't know."

That, at least, is the truth.

/

She's sitting, crying, in the living room when the doorbell rings.

She shakes her head, trying to wipe at her tears – she can't let whoever it is see her like _this_, that's just humiliating.

(More humiliating than being dumped at her graduation party, even.)

She opens the door, and her mouth falls open.

Quinn's there. Of course it's Quinn, because who else would it be?

Rachel shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I can't right now," and she starts to shut the door.

Quinn stops it with a hand, and Rachel freezes, staring at the ground.

"I heard about Finn," she whispers, and Rachel looks up at her, wide-eyed. "I think you need to talk to someone. May I please come in?"

Rachel nods, mute, because how can she turn Quinn down, like this?

She leads her inside, and sits down in front of the fireplace, turning it on quickly. She stares at it for a long moment before the tears fill her eyes again.

"I thought we were going to be together for – longer than that," she says, and it comes out thick. She closes her eyes, trying to steady herself. "I knew it wouldn't be forever, but I thought it might be – well, might be at least the summer." And she's confessing this to _Quinn_, of all people, Quinn who's seen her more vulnerable than anyone else, who has the power to make her more miserable than anyone else.

Quinn isn't using that power, though, listening without saying a word, and she moves a bit closer, grabs Rachel's hand in her own.

Rachel shouldn't be this upset about this – she's not even _attracted_ to Finn, not like she professed to be for all those years – but she feels like with this breakup, something has ended, something that she's not ready to admit is over.

"You're better than him," Quinn says, simply, and Rachel believes her – even if she doesn't agree with the sentiment, she believes that _Quinn_ believes it.

She smiles a bit. "I guess," and swallows, thick. "I just – at my party, of all things." She smiles a bit. "I'm glad he waited until after he'd given me my gift – or maybe I'm not. I don't know." She feels tears in her eyes, again, but they're not at the loss of Finn; they're about something different, something more due to the pretty girl sitting next to her.

"It was a bad move," Quinn says, blunt. "He's got a way of doing that, doesn't he?"

Rachel smiles, again. "I guess he does, at that."

"That's right." Quinn turns, kisses her forehead, and maneuvers them so they're leaning back against the couch.

Rachel's reminded of another time, at another house – with Finn, the night that everything had been sent up to the next level, with them.

(The night she lost her virginity, and realized that while she might _love_ Finn, she wasn't attracted to him in the way a girl was supposed to be attracted to a boy.)

It feels right, this time – feels nice to be here, with Quinn, holding her hand, even if it's in an entirely platonic way – even if Quinn doesn't mean anything by it other than _I'm here_, Rachel's willing to accept it.

After a long while, Quinn turns her head a bit, and smiles. "Hey."

Rachel grins. "Hey," and she leans her head on Quinn's shoulder.

They wait there for another long moment, and Rachel's eyes slide shut. She's comfortable, here, and her fathers are out of town, and she's not going to send Quinn away until she wants to leave, because her presence is comforting, means the world to Rachel.

Rachel looks up, finally, and meets Quinn's eyes – and Quinn is leaning down and they're _kissing_, and this time there's no Puck and no Finn and Rachel sighs, bringing an arm up to wrap around Quinn's neck.

At that, something seems to snap and Quinn has them turned around, is pressing into Rachel, pushing her back against the couch.

"Quinn," Rachel gasps out, because she has to say something, do something.

Quinn nods, panting against Rachel's neck. "Rachel," and she sounds lost.

Rachel smiles a bit, closes her eyes. "Please," and she doesn't know what she's asking for, but she _wants_ as much as Quinn is willing to give her.

Quinn's hands slide down, tantalizingly slowly, nails scratching at the skin on Rachel's sides, and she lets out a soft gasp, hand wrapping around Quinn's arm again.

She needs to hold on to something, needs to feel something, because otherwise she doesn't know how to handle this.

Quinn slides down her body until she's at the level of Rachel's shorts, and pulls them off, slow. "Can I?" she whispers, and her voice is thick with something – Rachel doesn't want to examine it, doesn't want to think, now.

She nods, quick. "Please," and it comes out stronger, now.

Quinn teases her, first, small kitten licks that have Rachel shaking against the couch, and she thinks – belatedly – that she should have done this in a bed, maybe, instead of _here_, like a whore – but it's too late, and Quinn's getting closer to where she wants her, and she lets out a soft moan, eyes sliding shut.

It's too much and not enough and she doesn't know what to ask for, doesn't know how to form words, because it's more than the physical act – it's that this is _Quinn_, of all people, Quinn who came here when Rachel was heartbroken, Quinn who's the kindest person Rachel's ever met when the need is there.

It's not long before she's coming with a soft sigh, and slumping back against the couch, eyes still shut.

She feels Quinn move above her, and then feels a soft kiss on her lips. She smiles, kisses back, just as soft, tender.

"Are you okay?" Quinn whispers into her ear.

Rachel nods, slow. "Do you need…?" and her voice is still breathy.

Quinn smiles, shakes her head. "That was – for you. You're hurting."

Rachel bites her lip, head more clear now. "Is that – was that all this was?" and she can't help it if she sounds like a little kid.

Quinn swallows. "I don't know." She shakes her head. "I don't think so. I don't want it to be."

Rachel tries to calm her heart down, but she can't help the smile that makes its way onto her face. "Are you saying you want to be my girlfriend?"

"Only if we keep it a secret," and this comes out softer.

Rachel swallows, and thinks, and looks – and this is Quinn, Quinn who she loves so desperately it hurts, and she nods.

There was never really a choice.

"My secret girlfriend, then," and perhaps this is dangerous – perhaps she shouldn't be going for this, shouldn't want this as much as she does, but she's tired of being selfless, wants to take this for herself, for once.

She's leaving in three months, and so is Quinn. They can have fun until it's over – and Rachel will have gotten her out of her system.

Quinn kisses her, once, soft.

"Do you want to stay the night?" Rachel asks, without meaning to, and turns a light pink – because she shouldn't ask that, knows the answer. It doesn't help her from wanting it, though, wanting Quinn to sleep with her in the literal sense. She wants to feel Quinn's breathing slow into an even rhythm, wants to see her relax –

But those are dangerous thoughts now, here, about _her_, and so she focuses on Quinn.

Quinn smiles, a bit, and shakes her head. "I don't think I should." She pauses. "I'll call you, Rachel." She presses her fingers against the curve of Rachel's wrist, once, kisses her on the cheek, and then she's gone, leaving Rachel, alone.

She's gone, but for once Rachel has something like hope.

She doesn't bother going upstairs, sleeps on the couch, watching the fire.

She's not happy with the situation, but it's more than she could have hoped for.

She has to be content with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, this took longer than I expected. I'm sorry!**

**Thank you to everyone who's favorited this/added it to their alerts/told me what they think. It really means so much to me! :)**

/

"When was the last time you saw her?" The question is soft, kind. Kurt looks at her, eyes wide.

Rachel shuts her eyes, tight. "I – it was a while ago. I haven't seen her in years."

She supposes it's not a complete lie.

She hasn't really seen _Quinn_, the girl that broke her heart, in a long time. Since high school.

(She's seen the person Quinn became, though.)

/

The first time they saw each other, Quinn's at her show.

Rachel's just come off stage, high on the applause, and even seeing Quinn can't diminish that.

She gives a bright smile, leaning in to hug her, tight. "How are you?"

Quinn smiles, too, but it looks forced. "I'm great, thanks! And so are you, you did – wonderfully." She hands Rachel a bouquet of flowers. "These are for you."

Rachel smiles, soft around the edges. "Thank you so much," and she holds them close to her chest, breathing them in.

Quinn stands there for a moment, looking torn, and then she jerks her head to the side. "Would you like to get some dinner, or something? Catch up?"

Rachel should say no – she has every fucking right to, and she should feel absolutely livid, should kick Quinn out and tell her never to come back.

But – this is the _now_, and this is Quinn looking broken, looking like she really wants to see Rachel, to talk to her.

She smiles, and nods. "Just let me get everything ready, change, and then sure. I'd love to."

/

Quinn's waiting for her when she returns, and holds out a hand for Rachel to take.

After a moment, she does, holds tight, linking their fingers together.

They eat slowly, and they talk about everything and nothing; Rachel talks of Broadway and scandals, and Quinn of her husband (_husband_, Rachel thinks, almost in awe) and the job she's managed to secure, as a secretary.

"My parents are happy with it," she says, and gives a shrug as though she doesn't care.

(Rachel can see through it, though. She's always been able to really see Quinn.

She'd say something if she thought it would make a difference.)

They don't talk about their past; they don't talk about Finn, or _them_, afternoons in cars or nights in front of a fire.

They're – forcedly polite, and when they part, Rachel feels a longing, a sadness sweep over her.

"Goodbye, Quinn," she says, and gives her another hug, breathing her in, holding her presence with her.

She's still in love, still _so_ in love, and watching her drive away hurts more than she thought it would.

But high school was then and this is now, she tells herself, and goes inside.

/

The second time, Quinn plans it.

She finds her way to Rachel's apartment, brings a bottle of wine that she loves and a few movies that she used to.

"Can I come in?" she asks, holding them up, and gives a smile that Rachel can't say no to.

They sit in front of the couch, watching movies. Quinn's too close to Rachel, but they're halfway through a bottle of wine and Rachel can't bring herself to tell her to move.

_Husband_, she reminds herself, _husband_, and it almost works.

But then – it feels like high school, too, forbidden and sweet, and when Quinn kisses her Rachel lets out a soft sound, arms reaching up to her shoulders, resting there.

Quinn leans her down and kisses over her, pulling Rachel's shirt off with reverence.

"You're beautiful," she whispers, and now, with the soft sounds of the movie in the background and alcohol blurring her thoughts, Rachel believes it.

She lets herself believe that this can _be_, that this is something more than it used to be.

She lets herself believe that Quinn won't leave, this time; that she'll stay with her, until Rachel asks her to go.

(Or, at least, that she _wants_ to stay.)

Quinn kisses down her body, slow and sweet, and it's like and unlike that first time; she's more careful, now, but it's so absolutely _Quinn Fabray_ that Rachel can barely breathe.

"Please," she finds herself whispering, too-soft, and tangling her hands in Quinn's hair, just wanting to feel, hold her, hold this moment in her mind, in her breath. "_Please_."

Quinn does, licks her way inside, and Rachel lets out a long sigh; she's had sex since Quinn, but not like this, not this close, never meant this _much_.

She comes and it surprises her; she lets out a sharp sound, tightening her grip, and Quinn climbs up her body, kisses her, and it's hazy, full of the post-coital bliss that usually escapes her.

Her fingers travel down Quinn's body, unbuttoning her jeans with a snap, and she presses inside her, still kissing her, moving her lips to her neck, back up to suck at her bottom lip. Quinn lets out little breathy noises that make Rachel want to cry, because – well, this is going to be gone when Quinn leaves.

_Don't_, she tells herself, trying to stay in the moment – but her bubble's been burst, because _husband, husband, husband_ is repeating over and over in her head, a mantra that sounds suspiciously like _you were never good enough_.

Quinn shudders when she comes, and Rachel kisses her through it, her grip tightening on Quinn's hips until she's sure there'll be bruises, tomorrow.

For a moment, they just breathe with each other, looking at each other, and then Quinn sits up, runs a hand through her hair.

"That was probably a mistake," she says, but her heart isn't in it.

Rachel swallows, trying not to let the lump in her throat show. "You're probably right."

Quinn snaps her head to the side; it's never been Rachel to agree, it's always been Quinn, insisting that it meant _nothing_, and Rachel arguing.

She was such a romantic, back then; now, though, _now_ she's nothing more than a realist.

"You are right," she says, because it's what she needs to say, because she's right – because this means nothing to Quinn and without the haze of an orgasm she can't delude herself. "It's just like before."

Quinn bites her lip and Rachel wants to beg her to stay, but she won't. She can't.

This has always been her fight, to tell Quinn what they are.

Not anymore.

She's out of fight, out of the will to yell at her, to beg anymore.

Quinn leaves, and Rachel doesn't say anything.

She's in love, but she isn't stupid.

She might love but Quinn doesn't, and Rachel's not going to force the issue. Not anymore.


End file.
